Drabble - Frodo in the Tower of Cirith Ungol.

[kortirion.livejournal.com]

He lies on stinking sacks, harsh against naked skin. Tightly bound limbs are numbed from lack of blood - but strangely, he feels unburdened, freed. Not cold now, but calm and comfortable, and so much lighter. He looks down into the room from a vantage point that recedes away from the little creature curled up tightly in the corner. It looks so sad and alone... but he is apart. He is... happy; it flows over him, a warm, golden, languorous river.

PainpainPAIN - twists like a knife in head and belly. Frodo returns, heaves a jagged gasp, ‘Sam... Sam’s voice... singing...'